


Two Headed Boy

by belivaird_st



Category: Dumbo (1941), Dumbo (2019)
Genre: Circus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Love, Multi, Other, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:20:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Joe Farrier misses the baby elephant with the large ears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title has nothing to do with this story. It’s named after a song I love. And since Dumbo is freak-show-circus themed, it sort of relates to it.

“He’s not coming back.”

His sister's words were harsh, but gentle. Joe peered over his right shoulder to look at Milly standing across from him inside the small circus caravan. The Farrier brother had snuck out from his camping tent to lay on the bale of hay that had been Dumbo’s.

“I know that!” Joe scoffed. He twisted himself around facing his back towards his sister in the straw, because he was angry. He was angry at Milly for being pragmatic and always wanting to be right all the time. She was older than him and wiser, so it made perfect sense to label her as little-miss-know-it-all.

“If you know, what are you doing here?” Milly walked towards him to lay her butt beside him. The twigs of loose straw tickled her bare arms and legs, but she got used to the feeling by now.

“I can’t sleep.” Joe plucked a few broken pieces of straw from the pile and bent them in halves with his thumbnail and forefinger. His anger on Milly dissolved quicker than intended, but Joe had secretly wanted his sister's company and could use a little some of her integrity.

“Me neither. I think Dad and Colette want to marry.”

Joe kept his eyes on the longest broken piece of straw he twirled in his fingers. “I like Colette,” he finally said.

“He can’t replace Mom like that. Nobody can.” Milly hoisted herself off the bale to stand back on her feet. “I’m going back to the tent.”

“I’m staying here,” Joe responded, stubbornly. 

Milly stared at him through the pale moonlight before leaving him alone in the caravan for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Holt carefully began to scrape shaving cream off one side of his face with a steel razor blade in front of a dirty, cracked mirror when he caught his daughter’s reflection appear in a nice off-white dress with a red silk ribbon bow tied to the front. Her big, brown eyes— _her mother’s eyes_ —were staring through the glass all mature and wholesome. Sometimes Milly would often mistake Holt of his deceased wife, Annie. Just thinking about her would always shake him up with utter remorse and grief. Holt was not around the day Annie died. Milly’s similarity of her mother was a constant reminder.

“Mornin, Milly,” Holt greeted his firstborn. “Where's your brother?”

“Having breakfast with Colette. He slept in Dumbo’s caravan last night.”

Holt looked back at her with the blade held stiff in his right hand. He watched his daughter walk around in her worn laced boots—touching his belongings—Annie was not as curious as their daughter—discovering certain things and exploring different places had always been Milly’s trait.

“He misses Dumbo. I do, too, but I wouldn’t want to stay inside where we first found him. The pain would hurt me even more.” Milly picked up her father’s compass. “Maybe someday the three of us could go into the jungle and visit Dumbo and Mrs. Jumbo?”

She said three. Three excluded the fourth person, which was his new profound love, Colette.

“I’m sure Colette would like to see Dumbo again, too.” Holt now held in his breath, waiting for the fireworks of his daughter’s misconception and uncertainty on the woman he had fallen in love. Milly did not lash out, however, but instead she simply put the compass back down on the bureau and huffed.

“Are you going to marry her?” she questioned him. Her voice sounded apathetic and forlorn.

Holt’s fingers somehow slipped and dropped the razor blade’s wooden handle making it clatter loudly into the basin sink. His daughter stared hard at him through the mirror, right into the center of his soul. There were no words to describe Milly’s haunting expression. It seemed like Annie Farrier had resurrected herself and was glaring at him now.

“Don’t answer that. I know it already.” Milly’s voice came out sourly and she was back as herself again. Holt watched her leave his tent, thinking, _Wait a minute! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m your father!_

But Holt was mute and his daughter was long gone. 

With shaking fingers, he picked up the razor blade and finished shaving.


End file.
